The Edele Arc: An Excerpt

R. Alexander

She had my father removed from the house. She claimed that he beat her, which I now can say with absolute certainty did not happen. That having been said, I remember her tucking me in at night and saying “your father is a very sick man. He is dangerous and you need to be scared of him.” Granted, that was true to a degree, but the reality was that she was setting the stage for an argument that he simply could not win. I remember coming home from school one day and seeing the Shabbos candles lit (Think candelabra, but religious lol). It made absolutely no sense that they were lit. Not only were we not religious, but it wasn’t the sabbath and we had just gotten out of school. Edele had a party prepared for the three of us. I was in 4th grade, Shayna in 6th. Edele had wine, the candles lit and a camera ready. She had us drink under candle light and flip off the camera in celebration of having my father removed from the house and being no longer with us. I was told a few years later by my father the exact turn of events that took place that day. The police came, gave him 15 minutes to gather his things and kicked him the fuck out of the house. To this day, it breaks my heart because while he was an angry man, more than anything else, he was broken. Not like Edele. He was a human being much like myself, probably like you too, who was in need of love and consistency. Who had a lot of healing to do and unfortunately had no outlet other than what I have previously mentioned. I’m not going to beat a dead horse here. He was abusive. He did his best.

I still have some of the pictures from that night. I was in a sports bra next to Shayna with the candles lit. Holding a wine glass in one hand and flipping the bird with the other. That was our ‘celebration’. What else is there to say about that?

They divorced very shortly after. Things only got worse from there. Both Shayna and I moved in with Edele. This small apartment in the middle of the hood in NJ. I feel that that is when the ‘directed’ abuse started. By that I mean that we were both abused as bystanders when they were married, but when they divorced, Edele’s illness was solely directed towards my sister and I. Shayna suffered the majority of the physical abuse, while I was subject to most of the emotional abuse. I have thought quite a few times in my adulthood about the reality of what we went through, the choices Edele made and just how vile those choices were. It’s truly unfathomable to me that a person, let alone a mother, would have the capacity to treat another human being that way. She was/is a very sick woman and while I am aware of that, I find it hard to separate my empathy for her from my sadness and pain. Anger as well, but I know that all that anger is truly presented as masked sadness, and so I feel that the anger is implied.

Rage though. I wonder about rage. How deep the ‘sadness rabbit hole’ must go in order for someone to feel my level of rage towards another person. While I would like to think that I forgive her, I don’t know if that forgiveness is true or real. Forgiveness and empathy are two different things and I believe that part of ‘forgiveness’ is the ability to let go. I have not done that. Not yet. I know and do feel sad for her, though. There is simply no way that she was able to do the things she did to us… to have the capacity to abuse us as she did and not have experienced terrible injustices, pain and brutal realities herself. She must have suffered a great deal, at some point in her life. She has always been very secretive about herself and her past. Shayna and I to this day have no idea who she is. My father didn’t either.

Additionally, her genetics must be taken into consideration. She had different personas/characters that would present themselves. You could call it Multiple Personality Disorder, or simply just a part of the mixed bag of hell she gifted to us. She had a ‘Lucille Ball’ one, a ‘Tigger’ one (from Whinnie the Pooh) and several others that were unnamed. I don’t remember much about that other than the flickers of memories of her hopping around the house, her quoting Lucille Ball from I Love Lucy and overall encompassing those personalities as if they were her own.

Things would have gone very differently for her in her adult life if she wasn’t so stunning. I mean absolutely gorgeous. Magnetic almost. Incredibly charming, witty, loveable, funny, dynamic, sweet, powerful, classy, very well put together etc. Everyone wanted to be around her. She played the ‘mother role’ impeccably. Protective, caring, affectionate, attentive, and so on.

She always had so much energy. She never stopped. She never sat, relaxed, showed any sign of depression. She was often referred to as ‘the energizer bunny’. I don’t know how she did it. How she was able to keep that up with no reprieve. I have yet to meet another soul that has that ability. She was also a very sexual woman. Always surrounded by men in some way. (Remind me to tell you the story of the time she took us to California to meet a man.) It is also important to note that in public she was incredible. Peers were jealous that I had her as a mother. She was masterful. I often wonder if my own behaviors and persona are masking the evil that she held behind closed doors. Almost like I don’t know who I really am or rather that there is a part of me that I have no awareness of. Much like Edele. I’m afraid that I am truly ‘her’ on the inside.

I am afraid. I don’t know what I have, how deep it runs. Both genetically and as a result of my childhood. Fucking nature/nurture isn’t working in my favor in that regard. I don’t want to be her. I fear that I am. I have similar qualities. Without sounding boastful or self-absorbed, I possess the traits that she presented in public. I can be witty/charming, very loving, funny, powerful. Is all of that bullshit? A ruse? I have no idea.

There is a very real possibility that on the inside… I mean really deep in there, I possess her darkness. That there will be a day that I snap and take on any one of her horrific personas or characteristics. That is my greatest fear. That I am her. Imposter syndrome isn’t quite the fit for what this is. I don’t fear that I am pretending to be someone I’m not. I fear that I am someone that I am unaware of entirely. Goodness this is hard to explain. Bottom line, am I capable of killing an animal? Of one day switching personas on a dime behind closed doors to the point of literal madness?

There was rarely a day throughout my first 16 years of life where I wasn’t, in some way, in contact with or experience Edele and her abuse. While I lack memory of most of the occurrences, I have a few examples that are crystal clear. I’ll get to those in a bit but throughout it all, as long as I can remember, I was called ‘lazy’ and ‘stupid’ (as you know) I was also constantly called a liar and sneaky (those are big ones, as well) Sneaky, Liar, Lazy, and Stupid. Those were all her favorites. Those labels weren’t abusive events but rather a reality that I faced throughout my childhood. It was reiterated to me constantly. I would imagine that plays a role today in my type A, perfectionist personality along with my hypervigilance to overshare information. I’ll briefly mention that my sister was abusive to me as well. She bullied me a lot and in the next breath was a ‘battle buddy’. We protected one another from Edele. It’s complicated. Overall, Shayna has always been very cold and mean. Absolutely brilliant but not open or loving. She took on a parental/controlling role, which in hindsight was more of keeping us both alive than anything else.

Back to Edele. I realize that she has taken up the majority of this space thus far. I don’t take pleasure in that. I do, in fact, want to move on from her. In so many ways. Lol. But here, in this specific medium, I will do my level best to end Edele’s chapters as soon as possible. It’s just so important, ya know? Her presence set the stage and the whole fucking theater for chapters to come. Let me get back to it so we can end it.

She was so fucking mean. Nasty even. She made no bones about the fact that she hated me. Regularly made it clear that she did. On her own timeline, though. She switched at the drop of a hat. While there was the appearance of love, she never actually held love for me. I never had a place inside of her, I was never a piece of her. She never “held” me. Even the performative love was completely transparent. Regardless of that fallacy, I was relieved whenever it was expressed because it took the place of the painful abuse. I never knew when she would switch. I never knew her next move. I never knew what I was walking in to. Who she would be, what she would be. The level of cruelty wasn’t a spectrum. It was more like ‘levels’ When I think of a spectrum, I think of a smooth scale. Something that you can gradually move through. She ‘jumped’ from a 10 to a 1 without notice or explanation. Regardless of her ‘number’ whether it be loving or inhumane, I never felt safe. That sentence holds a lot of weight. If I were to encapsulate this entire narrative into one sentence, that would be it. Her loving performance was very easily and suddenly replaced with pure cruelty. Again, I was never safe. Always in danger. With both my father and mother. As far back as I can remember. I was this worthless, ugly, lazy, lying and stupid “bitch” that she was subjected to. Shayna on the other hand, was BRILLIANT. She still is. While my room was a mess, I received failing grades, I peed the bed (until I was 16), I took terrible care of myself hygiene wise etc, Shayna was the complete opposite. She was ‘perfect’ for all intents and purposes. Straight A’s, was in an internationally known honors program, her room and personal space was impeccable, she had a full circle of friends and so on. Granted, she was not exempt from Edele’s cruelty. Edele, as stated previously, was much more physically abusive with her than she was with me. She once put Shayna’s hand in a doorframe and slammed the door on it over and over again. I clearly remember the image of her hand, the deep and open slit with dark blood dripping from it. I wish I could say that was a monumental event. It wasn’t. Edele was merciless. She would ignore me for weeks on end. Not just ignore me, but quite literally act as if I didn’t exist at all. She would walk from point A to point B and continue walking as if I wasn’t in front of her. She would just slam straight into me and continue. Like I was a ghost of some kind. I remember on quite a few occasions I would stand in front of her crying and begging her to just acknowledge me. To say anything at all to me. I wrote so many notes over the years. That was a big thing of mine. To write notes of apology and slide them under her door late at night. I still have a couple of them. The apology notes. Admitting how terrible I was. How I “see the error of my ways” (these were the words of a fucking child). Apologize for it and beg her to come back. Remembering all of this, bringing it all back to the surface and naming it. I read those letters now and am just broken for that little girl. Ignored, terrorized, abused, hated, scared, always on alert, unsafe. I never knew what was coming. As a result, that is one of my greatest fears. The constant state of ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Then, of course, randomly there would be the switch and I was the greatest thing. Hugs, kisses etc. I never knew what I was getting, what would walk through the door. I have anxiety even now if I am alone and hear a doorknob turn because someone is coming in. Sad.

We were in a store once and she told me she didn’t want me to walk near her because I smelled bad and she didn’t want people to know that I was her daughter. Those occurrences were just as frequent as those of the opposite nature. We had songs we would sing together ‘Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off’ was one of them. She would sing a part and I would sing the other. We would dance in the kitchen, she would make these monumental and dramatic declarations of love. The song “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” was another one of our songs. Oh, the irony! Ha!

To move on from the moments we danced in the kitchen would organically lend itself to the other side of Edele. The one that allowed for good times to be had all around. As stated, she was a gorgeous woman filled with vitality and a level of self assuredness that was only matched by her uncanny maternal instincts.

I know, quite the mind fuck.

As I type though, I’m bored. I’m also exhausted. I simply don’t want to talk about her anymore. This is my book, damnit, so I won’t. Not for a little bit at least. Much like in the real world, I simply need a break from her. Believe me when I tell you that this hiatus is just that, and we will inevitably, make our way back to the stories, foundational anecdotes and wildly outrageous tales that simply can’t be overlooked if we are going to get to the bottom of what makes me, me. I mean, we still have the tale of her literal garbage bag full of drugs, so rest assured, we aren’t done with her. Not yet.

Hopefully one day, I will be, but even symbolically, the earmark remains.